


Just Try Your Best

by goddamnitkastlewrites



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11898150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddamnitkastlewrites/pseuds/goddamnitkastlewrites
Summary: First posted to goddamnitkastle.tumblr.com on August 24, 2017.This was a fic I wrote for Day 1 of #KastleRadio Week, which was inspired by The Middle by Jimmy Eat World and the punk music of my middle school years.The original summary is below:"This was fun to write!Karen was/is definitely a punk kid with punk music tastes, fight me on it.I also tried to timeline this as accurately as possible. If it’s not oh well.Anyway it’s #KastleRadio Week at last! Woo!"





	Just Try Your Best

He’ll swear up and down that it appeared to him. That he was not snooping into Karen’s things, he was just doing what she asked him to do: checking for any bugs or tiny hidden cameras. She called him, the paranoia barely concealed under the investigative tone she adopts whenever she’s onto something. 

“I probably sound crazy but the amount of roadblocks I’ve hit with this story, I wouldn’t put it past him or his people to…" 

“Track your every move to see how close you’re getting?” He concluded. 

“Yeah.“ 

"Alright I’ll take a look." 

"Thank you, Frank. I’m gonna be late tonight so feel free to…" 

"Gotcha I’ll text you if I find anything." 

"Okay and just so you know there’s some leftover Chinese from last night. In case you’re…" 

"Thank you I appreciate it." 

Smash cut to a few hours later and he’s in her closet, staring down into a shoebox she kept on the highest shelf. It turned out to be harmless, mostly memorabilia from her college days. Photos, letters from friends, a deck of cards. Her tassel, with the numbers ‘07 in gold. 

Everything inside screamed at him to put it back. But as he stared into those blue eyes, eyes faded by time and dust, eyes that still held the weight of the world even then, he couldn’t help but live vicariously through her. He was at the beginning of his Marine career at that time, college a forgotten dream. It was all so long ago, another life if he was honest with himself. He felt his chest tighten and he sucked in deep breaths. 

And then he remembered what made him sift through the box in the first place. The iPod. Electric Blue and looking borderline ancient. And she kept the charger. Again, he’ll swear that the following did not happen, he was just being thorough. After all the people Karen was looking into could have the ability to bug a generations old music player. 

_(At least that was he rationalizes to himself later, when he’s alone in his apartment.)_

He plugged it in and ran to the bodega down the street to pick up headphones. He came back and the iPod slowly lit to life. As he scrolled through the artists, he chuckled. Karen was a punk. Or a pop punk. Maybe it was emo punk, he wasn’t sure.

Fall Out Boy.   
Dashboard Confessional.   
Linkin Park.   
Taking Back Sunday.   
The Spill Canvas.

There were the occasional number #1 hits. 

 _Umbrella_.   
_Hey There Delilah_.   
_Before He Cheats_.   
_The Great Escape_.   
_Teardrops On My Guitar_.

But other than that, angsty white boys with their electric guitars dominated her iPod. 

He was in the middle of  _The Tide_  when he heard her door open. He bolted up and kicked the shoebox to the side, throwing the iPod near it. 

"Karen? That you?” He was finagling with the headphones, trying to wrap them but he ended up shoving them into his jacket. 

“Yeah, sorry I meant to text you…” he heard her call. He walked out of the bedroom and came into a sight he fucking hated. Fucking hated cause it happened too often. And even though he wasn’t always at fault for her tears, he still felt that twist of guilt. 

“What’s wrong Karen? What happened?" 

"Nothing I promise. The story… it’s over.” she sniffled.

“What happened?” He asked again. 

“He killed himself. The asshole CEO, I was this close to having an accountant come forward about the embezzlements and I had it half written and suddenly the CEO is found hanging from a ceiling fan by his belt." 

"But they’ll go through his company, they’re gonna find…" 

"I was at the crime scene. It looks like he destroyed everything. They’re not gonna find anything incriminating. And now Ellison is on my ass cause we have no front page. God everything just…" 

She put a hand to her mouth, closed her eyes. Frank always stepped back at this point, he felt better giving her space then getting into her space. But he decided to try something else. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be the hugging type for her but there was another thread. One he hadn’t tried but he felt like this would be the time to. 

"Hey I, uh, was in your closet and I found something. I’ll be back in just a second." 

She nodded, quickly wiping at her cheeks. 

He dashed back to her closet and found the iPod. He came back out, her back facing him. He placed the iPod on the island and she turned around. Her face went from perplexed to utter joy. A watery laugh erupted as she picked it up. 

"Trying to update your music tastes, Castle?" 

"Well you’re clearly not an Earth, Wind, and Fire fan." 

"Ah no.” She laughed again and her laugh had unknowingly become his favorite sound. 

_(Something he’ll never say out loud. That’ll be for himself.)_

“Thought you’d be a musical theatre kind of girl." 

"Oh no that would be Foggy’s domain." 

"The counselor?" 

"You didn’t hear it from me." 

They both laughed and he noticed her shoulders dropping. 

"I actually went to Warped Tour. Twice." 

"Isn’t that some emo shit music festival?" 

"Hey, it’s not shit.” She defended as she slapped at his hand. 

“Well I did actually find one song I liked. May I?” She handed the iPod back to him and he reached for the headphones. They’d become a tangled mess but he still plugged them into the headphone jack. He turned the volume way up and he pressed play. 

_**Hey** _  
_**Don’t write yourself off yet** _  
_**It’s only in your head you feel left out or looked down on** _  
_**Just try your best** _  
_**Try everything you can** _  
_**And don’t you worry what they tell themselves when you’re away** _

She laughed again and turned to her fridge. 

“I would blast this song in my car.” She said as she handed him a beer. 

“Really? Was it in the car I crashed into?" 

"No. My fist car was a Jeep Cherokee. Her name was Cherrie." 

Frank snorted. He took a sip. 

"Yeah. Kevin had the same reaction.” She looked down at her beer. The mood always shifted with them but Frank knew it came with their territories. Their losses will hang over them, come hell or high water. 

“He accepted her name. But on the condition that we blast  _Mr. Brightside_ whenever I drove him." 

He was relived at the return of levity. She suddenly perked up. 

"Let’s go for a drive." 

"What?" 

"Come on. We’ll go on FDR Drive and we can revisit more of this music.” She had her coat on and keys in hand which meant there was no choice for Frank. 

“Alright. But can we get food?”


End file.
